by Dan Gutman
“Remember what happened when Miss Z told the truth about our pictures in her museum?” David said. “If she had only lied, none of this would have happened.”
“Sometimes you have to lie,” Julia said.
As the boat approached the little dock on the New York side, a figure was standing there—Benjamin Franklin Washington, the guy who’d sold them the rowboat.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “I sure didn’t ’spect to see you folks again.”
“Here’s your boat back, sir,” Julia said as Benjamin Franklin Washington helped her step onto the dock. “Good as new. Thank you for letting us use it.”
The boys stowed the oars and climbed onto the dock.
“Have a nice ride?” Benjamin Franklin Washington asked, looking them over carefully.
“Yes, it was lovely,” Isabel told him as she let him help her out of the boat.
“Where did you go?” Benjamin Franklin Washington asked.
“Oh, you know,” David replied, “around.”
“Around . . . Weehawken, maybe . . . to watch the duel?”
The Flashback Four didn’t reply. This Benjamin Franklin Washington guy could be trouble. They didn’t want anything to get in the way of their return trip home.
“Allow me to ask you a question,” Benjamin Franklin Washington said. “How did you know there was going to be a duel up in those cliffs this mornin’?”
The kids shot glances at one another. Somebody had to step forward and be the group spokesperson. As usual, it was Luke.
“I’m really sorry,” he said, “but we can’t tell you how we knew. It’s kind of a secret. You wouldn’t believe us anyway.”
“Did you witness it?” Benjamin Franklin Washington asked. “Did you see General Hamilton and the vice president?”
“Yeah, we saw them,” Luke replied.
“Can you perchance tell me what transpired?” asked Benjamin Franklin Washington. “There are many rumors goin’ around.”
“Burr shot him,” Luke said, glancing at Isabel. “It was as simple as that. Nothing more to say.”
“Is Alexander Hamilton still alive?” asked Isabel anxiously.
“Far as I know, yes,” Benjamin Franklin Washington told her. “But he may not make it through the day. That’s what people are sayin’, anyway. Nobody knows for sure. Lotta gossip in the air this mornin’.”
While Benjamin Franklin Washington tied his boat to the dock, Isabel turned her back on him so she could take the TTT out of her pocket. She typed in a quick text to Ms. Gunner . . .
WE ARE BACK AT THE DROP OFF POINT IN NY. GET US OUT OF HERE ASAP.
The reply came back in seconds . . .
OKAY. GET READY. NEED 1 MINUTE.
The Flashback Four gathered together in a tight clump.
“What’s that yer doin’?” asked Benjamin Franklin Washington.
“Oh, this is just something that we do,” Julia told him. “It’s kind of our thing.”
“That is an odd thing to do,” he replied.
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” said David.
At NOYB headquarters in Boston, Ms. Gunner was sitting at the computer. Her old sidekick Jones was gone, but her team of nerdy-looking engineers was gathered around her. It looked like NASA headquarters in every movie you’ve seen about the space program.
Ms. Gunner had a scowl on her face. The Flashback Four had ignored most of her texts, and they had refused to say whether or not they’d shot the video of the duel. She was used to having her orders followed. But there was nothing she could do. The situation was out of her control. Working with children was new to her.
“Okay, it’s time, guys,” she said to the group around the computer. “Let’s bring those kids back.”
One of the engineers flipped the switch on the Board to warm it up. Ms. Gunner typed a few commands on the keyboard and hit the ENTER key. Everyone looked at the Board expectantly.
Nothing happened.
“It’s not working,” somebody said nervously. “Something’s wrong.”
There was a lot of tension in the room. NOYB had successfully managed to send the Flashback Four to 1804, but none of the engineers were quite sure if they would be able to bring the group back.
“Do we have the correct date, time, latitude, longitude?” asked Ms. Gunner.
“Check.”
They all looked at the Board again. Nothing.
“Those kids may be stuck there,” one of the engineers said. “I knew this technology was kludgy.”
“Nobody will ever know what happened,” mumbled another one. “Our hands are clean.”
“Stop that talk,” barked Ms. Gunner. “You guys give up too easily.”
There was a sudden buzzing sound, and then the screen on the Board lit up. A sigh of relief swept through the room. Five bands of color appeared across the Board. They shimmered for a few seconds, and then combined together into a band of intense white light.
“I just felt something!” Julia said excitedly.
“It’s happening,” said Luke.
“What the heck is goin’ on?” asked Benjamin Franklin Washington, staring at them cluelessly. “Will you be needing me to summon a doctor?”
“Hopefully not,” David assured him. “In a few seconds, this is gonna get a little weird. You might want to shield your eyes. Don’t freak out.”
Benjamin Franklin Washington had no idea what freaking out meant. But it didn’t matter. A crackling sound filled the air around Isabel, Luke, David, and Julia. They froze in place. It was like they had been gripped by a powerful invisible force. They held one another’s hands tightly for support.
In Boston, a coffee cup vibrated on Ms. Gunner’s desk.
“This is it,” she said. “Here they come.”
The bright white light stretched out and away from the surface of the Board until it came to a point three feet in front of it, like a laser beam. The humming sound intensified. Then there was an image, almost like a floating hologram. It was flickering. At first, it was impossible to make out any details.
The Flashback Four were flickering in the air now like a strobe light. Bits and pieces of David, Luke, Isabel, and Julia were illuminated. Then the Board began to pull them in, atom by atom, molecule by molecule. They were being digitally uploaded from the nineteenth century to the twenty-first, hopscotching the twentieth century entirely. The Board was struggling to fuse them into one complete picture.
“Holy—”
On the dock in New York City, Benjamin Franklin Washington stared, openmouthed. He had never seen anything like it. One moment these four kids were standing right in front of him, and the next moment, an explosion of light and smoke filled the air. A moment after that, they were gone. Benjamin Franklin Washington was left standing on the dock all by himself.
“Well,” he said, “ain’t that just about the dangest thing I’ve ever seen.”
There was an explosion of light and smoke in Boston, too. Luke, Isabel, Julia, and David appeared in the flesh a few feet in front of the Board. They fell into the room, coughing and stumbling, flailing as they tumbled onto the carpet, knocking over a trash can and spilling its contents across the floor. They gasped for breath, happy, relieved, worn out, and emotional.
The Flashback Four was back.
NOYB headquarters erupted into raucous jubilation. The engineers were all whooping, hollering, high-fiving, slapping one another on the back, lighting cigars, and popping champagne corks.
“We made it!” David said, kissing the floor.
Ms. Gunner was the first one to welcome them, rushing over to help the kids off the floor and brush them off.
“Congratulations!” she said, smiling widely. “We weren’t sure you were going to make it for a minute there.”
“Neither were we,” Luke said. “It was touch and go.”
Ms. Gunner was not one to waste time making small talk. She was all business.
“So,” she said, holding out her hand, “may
I have the Hot Head?”
“Don’t you want to make sure we’re okay?” asked Julia.
“You appear to be just fine,” Ms. Gunner said brusquely. “We’re all anxious to see the video. May I have the Hot Head?”
Luke, Julia, David, and Isabel looked at one another.
“Wow, you don’t waste a minute, do you?” Luke said. “Don’t you want to know what happened?”
“I’ll know what happened when I’ve had the chance to review the video you made,” she told him, holding out her hand again. “You did shoot the video, didn’t you? Give it to me. Give me the Hot Head.”
“I . . . we . . . don’t have it,” Luke admitted.
All traces of a smile were gone from Ms. Gunner’s face now.
“Step into my office,” she commanded. “Now.”
The Flashback Four followed her into a small office. She slammed the door behind them and locked it.
“What do you mean you don’t have it?” she demanded of Luke. “How can you not have it? It was strapped to your head!”
“It . . . came off,” he said, still technically telling the truth.
“Where is it?” Ms. Gunner demanded with anger in her voice.
“It’s . . . in the Hudson River,” said Julia, also sticking with the truth.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Ms. Gunner said, pounding her fist against the desk.
“It was an accident,” Luke explained.
Okay, now the lying had begun.
“You let it fall into the water?” Ms. Gunner asked, incredulous. “And you just left it there? It was waterproof! Why didn’t you dive in and get it out? Do you have any idea how much money the Hot Head is worth?”
“We’re sorry,” David said pointlessly.
The Gunner was fuming now, pacing the little office, trying to figure out what to do next. Her mind was racing. Maybe she could arrange to have the Hot Head fished out of the Hudson now, she thought. After all, it was still in the river, at the bottom somewhere. But that would be a very expensive operation, and the chances of finding it and having it survive over two hundred years underwater were tiny.
How would she explain this to her superiors? They would cut the funding for her program for sure. She might get fired. Everybody had high hopes for this mission.
Finally, her curiosity got the better of her.
“So, what happened in Weehawken?” she asked. “Did Hamilton shoot at all? Was he aiming at Burr? Who shot first? What did Burr do after Hamilton fell?” The questions tumbled out, one after the other.
“We . . . don’t know what happened,” Luke lied. “It was all kind of a blur.”
Ms. Gunner had had it with these kids. Now she exploded.
“You don’t know what happened?” she shouted, pushing Luke in the chest. “That’s the best you can tell me? Why do you think we sent you back to 1804? Just for the fun of it? Did you think this was a little school field trip? A joyride? This was important! We chose you because you had experience with this. You supposedly knew what to do. We made it as simple as possible for you!”
“It all happened so fast,” Isabel said lamely. “We just—”
“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted a bunch of kids to get the job done,” Ms. Gunner said. “Well, you can forget about those college scholarships. None of you deserve to go to college. You disgust me. Get out of here.”
Hanging their heads, the Flashback Four moved toward the doorway.
“Can I ask you just one question?” Isabel said before opening the door.
“What is it?”
“Did Alexander Hamilton die in the duel?”
“Of course he died in the duel!” Ms. Gunner shouted at her. “We knew that already! That’s all we knew. Why would you ask such a stupid question?”
“No reason,” Isabel said meekly.
“Get out of my office!” Ms. Gunner shouted. “I don’t want to see any of you ever again!”
CHAPTER 22
THE LAST GOOD-BYE
AND THAT, READERS, WAS THE END OF THE FLASHBACK Four.
They had a pretty good run there, wouldn’t you say? Four missions completed safely, and in two of them—Titanic and Pompeii—the kids brought back the photos they had been assigned to shoot. While it’s true that they had failed to deliver the goods at Gettysburg and Weehawken, they were still batting .500. Not too shabby.
But it was over. Done. Finished. The Flashback Four were now just Luke, Isabel, Julia, and David. They would never travel through time again.
Oh, wait, reader. Just one more little thing. I almost forgot . . .
A couple of Saturdays after the “Weirdness in Weehawken,” as they called it, the kids were back to their normal lives. David was shooting hoops with his friends at the park that day. Julia was shopping. Isabel was at the library catching up on some schoolwork. Luke was playing pinball.
Each of the Flashback Four was lost in his or her own private world, when four men in identical dark suits approached them individually.
“Excuse me,” the man whispered to Isabel, “I’m sorry to bother you. Are you Isabel Alvarez?”
“Yes,” she replied, alarmed. “Is something wrong?”
The man didn’t respond. He simply reached into his jacket pocket and handed Isabel a yellow envelope. Then he turned on his heel and walked away. The same thing happened to David, Luke, and Julia.
For a moment, Isabel was confused. Then she remembered—a yellow envelope. That was how she got involved with the Flashback Four to begin with. It felt like a long time ago when a mysterious stranger had handed her a yellow envelope inviting her to a “very special once-in-a-lifetime experience” at the Hancock Building in downtown Boston. Twenty dollars had been clipped to the invitation the first time.
Quickly, Isabel tore open the envelope. There was no money inside, but there was a note . . .
Come to 75 Francis Street, Boston, Massachusetts, as soon as possible. Please do not share this or discuss it with anyone.
There was no signature and no return address. Isabel quickly gathered up her books and stuffed them into her backpack. She checked the address on her smartphone. Francis Street was less than a mile away. She could walk it.
The sign above the awning at 75 Francis Street said BRIGHAM AND WOMEN’S HOSPITAL. It didn’t take long for Isabel to put two and two together—Miss Z must be here. She was dying. She probably wanted to say her last good-byes.
Isabel hurried through the automatic doors and walked over to the information desk.
“May I help you?” the receptionist asked.
“I received this envelope,” Isabel replied, taking it out of her backpack.
“Oh, yes. Room 333. The elevators are behind you.”
Isabel took the elevator up to the third floor and found the right room. Mrs. Vader was standing outside the door, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Isabel gave her a hug, which only made the two of them more emotional.
“She’s dying, isn’t she?” asked Isabel.
“Yes,” Mrs. Vader said. “It won’t be long now.”
“May I see her?”
“Of course.”
Isabel was ushered into the hospital room. Luke, David, and Julia were already there, standing quietly and respectfully at one side of the bed. They nodded at Isabel when she came in. The mood was somber. There were some flowers on the windowsill, along with framed photographs the kids had taken of Mount Vesuvius and the Titanic. Soft music was playing in the background.
Miss Z was asleep. Her hair was stringy, and her skin looked more pale than usual. She seemed so fragile, lying there. It looked like she was already dead. No words were spoken for some time.
“This is what it’s like when somebody dies, huh?” asked Luke. “I’ve never seen anybody die.”
“I did,” said David. “My grandpa.”
Julia couldn’t speak at all. She held a tissue against her face.
“Is she conscious?” asked Isabel.
“She fades in and out,
” replied Mrs. Vader. “One minute she seems perfectly lucid, and then it looks like she’s barely alive. Even if she seems like she’s out of it, she told me that she wanted the four of you to come here today.”
Isabel went over and knelt at Miss Z’s bedside. She recited a prayer silently.
“I don’t know if you can hear me,” Isabel said quietly, “but I never took the time to thank you for the wonderful experiences you gave me. Experiences you gave all of us. The memories are starting to fade, but the photographs will always be there. I will try really hard not to forget what we did together. Thank you for giving me the opportunity.”
The Flashback Four were all in tears now. Even Luke was wiping his face with his sleeve.
That’s when Miss Z opened her eyes. Isabel was so startled, she almost fell over. Mrs. Vader looked relieved.
“Knock it off,” Miss Z said to the kids. “I’m not dead yet. Not by a long shot. Stop that whimpering.”
“It’s so good to see you and hear the sound of your voice!” David said. “I thought you were being held prisoner or something.”
“I was,” Miss Z replied. “But I guess they just figured the old lady is going to die any day, so I’m no threat to them anymore. I’m no use to them either, so they just decided to let me go in peace. Stopped harassing me. Real humanitarians, huh?”
“How long do you have?” Luke asked.
“Luke! You don’t ask questions like that!” said Julia, exasperated.
“What did I say?” asked Luke innocently.
“Who knows how long I have?” said Miss Z. “It could be days. It could be weeks.”
That set off another round of sobbing.
“Look, I didn’t invite you kids here to slobber all over yourselves,” Miss Z said. “I need you to do something. That’s why I called you in here. Mrs. Vader?”
Mrs. Vader left the room for a moment. When she returned, she was wheeling in a large smartboard.
“Is that . . . what I think it is?” asked Isabel.
“It sure is,” replied Miss Z.
“It’s the Board!” exclaimed Luke.
“How did you get it back?” David asked. “They took it from you.”